


A Very Mollcroft Christmas

by shnuffeluv



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabbles, Christmas, F/M, Religion, fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 6,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5328656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/shnuffeluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yeah, I made a Mollcroft advent calendar...because 24 days until Christmas...and what better way to celebrate the countdown than one of our favorite couples (favorite in fandom, anyone?) doing Christmas-related things in little stories that are barely anything more than drabbles, huh?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Discussion

“Mycroft?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk?”

Mycroft looked up from his book to see Molly standing over him in their living room. He shrugged. “About what?”

“Well, it’s December 1st. And this year it’ll be our first Christmas together since Irene Adler, when we didn’t even know each other.”

Mycroft put his book down. “Look, I’m sorry work came up these past 2 Christmases, I wish it didn’t, but I made sure it wouldn’t this year. Anthea is gonna take care of the work on Christmas and Easter from now on, so I can spend them with you.”

Molly frowned. “Easter?”

Mycroft laughed. “Molly, you do know that I’m a Christian, right?”

“Oh. Um, is it bad if I say ‘no’?”

He grinned and sighed. “Not really. I’ve never said it outright before. Though I did hope you’d notice, considering my parents were glad that I had brought home a ‘good, Christian girl,’ to use my mother’s words.”

Molly sighed. “Oh, well that clears up almost everything I was going to talk to you about.” She laid next to him on the couch. “There’s still the matter of actual Christmas day.”

“Hm. Do you not want to go to your family’s?” he asked.

Molly nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but...they all just seem really mopey since Dad died whenever Christmas comes. He’d always be the one to get everyone excited, and I don’t think I could bear another year like last year.”

Mycroft winced, acutely remembering how Molly was crying when he talked to her last year. “You enjoy Boxing Day with them, though, don’t you?”

Molly nodded. “I want to be there for boxing day, just not Christmas dinner.”

Mycroft hummed. “I imagine my parents will try to get me to go to their place since I’m not working, the second they find out. If they don’t, then we can have a quiet Christmas dinner here.”

Molly nodded. “That sounds good to me.”

Mycroft looked at her. “Yeah?”

She grinned. “Yeah.”

“One last thing to talk about?”

“Presents.”

Mycroft groaned and buried his face in the back of Molly’s neck. “Do we have to talk about this?”

Molly laughed as Mycroft’s breath came across her neck. “Stop it, you! And yes! Listen, I don’t want anything big this year. Okay? Just, a simple day with my boyfriend is enough for me. I’m probably going to wind up knitting you something again like last year.”

Mycroft hummed. “I still use that scarf.”

Molly laughed. “Yeah? Well, just remember, I’m not a fancy person. I’d settle for something you found that made you think of me. Okay?”

Mycroft nodded. “You’ve got it. I wasn’t planning much of anything yet anyway. What I was was something along the lines of that soft sweater you saw in the store the other day.”

Molly whacked him. “Don’t ruin it! You're not to tell me anything else, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I love you,” she sighed.

“I love you too,” he laughed.


	2. Cookies

Molly hummed as she flipped through her old cookbook, looking for her snickerdoodle recipe. Mycroft wandered in in his pajamas and yawned. “Molly, what’re you doing up?”

“It’s 11 in the morning, love,” she laughed.

Mycroft looked at the clock. “So it is,” he muttered. “I’ve still got jet lag. It feels like 6 in the morning to me. You never get up before 7.”

“And you never get up before 9, so why are you up at 11 and not 4pm?”

“I don’t know. I just...woke up.”

Molly laughed. “Well, since you’re up, you could help me make Christmas cookies!”

Mycroft furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because Christmas cookies are delicious. You in?”

Mycroft groaned. “Well, I’m not going back to sleep...stupid Americans…”

Molly laughed. “How about I let you decorate them?”

Mycroft perked up a little at that. “Yeah, that’s the one part I like doing.”

Molly grinned. “Then you can rest until their baked. I have a stack of your favorite books ready and waiting by the couch.”

He kissed her forehead. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d probably die of exhaustion,” Molly said with a grin. “Go on, read. I don’t mind.”

Mycroft went into the living room, flopped on the couch, and opened the first book. _Break No Bones_ , by Kathy Reichs. Mycroft laughed. Of course with Molly’s form of humor she’d pick out a detective story or two for him to read. At least it was interesting…

Molly found Mycroft curled in a ball on the couch half an hour later, sleeping like a log. She smiled and covered him in a blanket. Hopefully the extra sleep would allow him to adjust to the jet lag by the end of the week. She just really wanted to hand out the Christmas cookies with him.


	3. Chapter 3

“What’s the catch?” Sherlock crossed his arms, not believing a single word Mycroft was telling him.

“There is no catch,” Mycroft sighed. “I came across a case you might enjoy, and so I’m giving it to you.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Mycroft. “Is this Molly’s doing?”

“No.”

“Muumy’s?”

“No.”

“Whose?”

“Mine,” Mycroft huffed. “Though I am sorely regretting it.” He threw the case on the table. “Feel free to read over it, this one isn’t classified.”

He walked out and sighed. His phone buzzed. He rolled his eyes and took the phone out. _Is this some sort of early Christmas present?_

_Sure, if that’s what makes you sleep at night._

_Merry Christmas, then._

_Merry Christmas, Sherlock._

* * *

 

Mycroft went back to work and didn’t receive another text for 5 hours. _One of the men working under you, I’d say. John Sanders, the one with experience in college-level chemistry. A 9. -SH_

_You’re welcome._

_Shut up!_

Mycroft sniffed a laugh. This was certainly an interesting way to give Sherlock presents. He’d have to remember that the next time an 8 came around Sherlock’s birthday. _Oh, and for finding out it was one of mine, I owe you one. Clearly security has been slacking off again._

_Can I cash in that now?_

_No, you are not allowed inside MI6._

_You’re no fun._

Mycroft grinned. _I try for you, brother dear._

 


	4. Cards

“Mycroft, did you finish the cards for your coworkers yet?”

“Just finished,” he replied absently.

“Well then can you start the one for your parents?”

Mycroft looked up. “Are you sure we want to encourage them?”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Look, it’s the time of year where we let people know we’re all right. All of our friends have cards, and so do all our acquaintances. All that’s left are the cards to your family and mine.”

Mycroft sighed. “But if you encourage them, they’ll never stop!”

“...” Molly gave him an unamused look.

Mycroft cringed and took the last picture of them together and grabbed a card. “You’re signing this death sentence, you know.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course I’m signing the Christmas card we’re giving to your parents.”

He leaned back and wrote one sentence underneath the standard “Merry Christmas”. Molly took it from him once he signed it and smiled, adding her own name and sentence.

_We’re both off work this year. -Mycroft_

_Feel free to invite us over, he’ll never come over of his own volition! -Molly_


	5. Pokemon

“Why?” was all Mycroft said when he walked into the house that day.

Molly looked at him from the living room where she was watching _Pokemon_ and shrugged. “Nostalgia. Why else?”

“Yes, but...this…”

“Cartoon?” Molly supplied.

“I was going to say poor excuse for anime, but that works too,” Mycroft said. “I’m a _Fullmetal Alchemist_ person. Never understood why, but I love it.”

Molly scooted over. “Christmas morning, Zack would get out all these tapes we had and we’d have a marathon while we waited for our parents to get up. It was some of the most fun we had the entire season. You like _Fullmetal Alchemist?”_

“I go for the manga first, but I understand Japanese, so naturally I tried the anime.”

Molly laughed. “I still have so much to learn about you.”

Mycroft kissed her. “And I, you. When this is done could we watch something else?”

“If that something else is _It’s a Wonderful Life_ ,” Molly bargained.

Mycroft shuddered at the memory. “No. Never again. I’d be willing to watch...something else of your choice, if it’s not this or that.”

“I have _Sword Art Online_ in the queue,” Molly grinned.

“Shortened it makes a good story, and the concept was fascinating. But in practice it wasn’t amazing.”

Molly shrugged. “Guilty pleasure. Besides, the manga is usually better in my opinion anyway. I much prefer that for some serious feels at deaths.”

Mycroft sniffed a laugh. “You’ve never seen a proper anime or read a proper manga, then.”

Molly scowled. “Oi, I have my preferences, and you have yours.”

Mycroft turned to the screen. “I never understood the appeal of this,” he muttered.

Molly grinned. “Well, you’ve never had a proper feels trip from right in the childhood then. I’ll teach you.”

It started to snow outside, and Toby ran in and curled up between Molly and Mycroft. It was an altogether beautiful winter movie night in.


	6. Tales of Christmas Past

_I don’t know if I want you to read this, but the last Christmas with my dad...was not a good one. Everyone was fighting over who was doing what and what was to happen, since Dad was too tired to plan anything. While everyone was arguing, I looked at him and he was crying. He didn’t meet my eye, though we both knew I saw him. My family...has never really forgiven itself for that. They always say “If only Dad were here to see us now…” and then look really sad. I hate it. I can’t stand to be around it. I figured that since you need solid reasons to not go somewhere, I should give you mine. Whenever everyone is stepping on eggshells, I feel like I have to scream and yell at people to just speak their mind; I can’t stand it when everyone’s so sad. I guess some people would call it a trigger, huh?_

_My family triggers me. That’s why I hate Christmas dinners at my house._

_I’ll see you after work, then._

_Molly x_

Mycroft looked over the note carefully, and rubbed a hand over his face. It was midnight, he was exhausted, and Molly wasn’t home yet. He knew that she’d need some cheering up after this, so he wrote on the back of the note:

_I’m glad you told me, it pays to know these things. I understand completely, in ways I find hard to share with anyone. You probably need comfort, I’ll be in bed, waiting for you. Wake me up if I’m asleep and we’ll cuddle for as long as you need. And if you really want, I suppose we can do spooning tonight._

_Myc_

He headed up the stairs, stripped to his boxers, and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt. He slipped under the sheets and waited for Molly to come in.

It was 3 am when he heard the footsteps, slow and heavy, enter the kitchen for their ritual chamomile tea after a night shift. The footsteps made their way to the bedroom, where Molly appeared, quite obviously having been crying. Mycroft sat up and beckoned her over. She curled into him, still in her day clothes, and together they fell asleep warm and safe.


	7. Panicked Mycroft: The Staple

“What does that mean? ‘I don’t want anything big this year’?” Mycroft scratched the back of his neck as he talked to Anthea in the car. “I mean, I know what it means, but is she saying she actually wants something, or doesn’t?”

“I think she’s saying she wants something from the heart,” Anthea supplied. “Something that made you think of her. You know? Not a fancy necklace or whatever men get their girlfriends as gifts,” she waved a hand. “Something generic like that says that you can buy stuff, not that you care for her. Give her something she’ll love.”

“Something that makes me think of her? Lots of things make me think of her, though!” Mycroft sighed.

“Easy, casanova. When it comes to picking out the right gift from the heart, you’ll know it when you see it. It’s that simple.”

Mycroft grumbled. “It had better be, or I’m screwed.”

Anthea rolled her eyes at the melodrama. “You’ll do fine. Trust me. She’s probably more worried than you are.”

Mycroft scoffed. “Sure. And I’m the King of England since my promotion,” he retorted.

Anthea shrugged. “You’ll do fine, sir. If anyone can find what Molly might like, it’s you.”


	8. Panicked Molly: The Plot Twist

“I can’t do this. Why can’t I do this? I thought...I thought I had everything planned. I don’t have everything planned. How could I think this was a good idea?!” Molly bemoaned in the lab.

Sherlock scoffed. “If you’re referring to Christmas with my brother, than you’ll do fine.”

Molly gave him a look. “Are you insane?! I don’t know the first thing about a proper gift for him! I’ve gotten him gag-gifts the past 2 years!”

“And he uses them. Molly, they aren’t gag gifts, they’re practical. They help him keep up in his self care. And if all you do is get him a scarf, he will wear it until it’s threadbare, because you got it for him. He’s so sentimental.”

Molly sighed. “It’s not that simple.”

Sherlock gave her a look that said _it’s exactly that simple_. “You know my brother better than you might think.”

She breathed out through her nose. “I know he reads manga. That’s about it.”

Sherlock frowned. “He reads what?!”

Molly blinked and smiled. “Actually, I might have this after all. Thanks for the support, Sherlock.”

“My brother reads _what?!”_ he repeated.

“You know what manga is, don’t you Sherlock?” Molly said with a smile.

Sherlock just scoffed, shook his head, and went back to his slides. “You’ll do even better than I thought if you can find that out.”

Molly sniffed a laugh and turned to the door. “Think I’ll get myself some tea to celebrate. You want any?”

Sherlock grunted.

 ****"More for me," Molly muttered.


	9. Chapter 9

“1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15. 15?! How can you hold that many candy canes on your lip?!”

Mycroft took them off and chuckled. “I just can. Why, is it weird?”

“I can fit, like, 9. 15 is absolutely ridiculous,” Molly scolded.

Mycroft grinned and one of them on the next door in his office. “Well, whatever. It’s a useless skill anyway. The most I can use it for is to get you to yell at me.”

Molly hit him. “Oh, come on. It frees your hand up when we do this,” she nodded at the hall filled with candy canes.

Someone could be heard screaming in rage down the hall. “HOLMES!” he yelled. “HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO LEAVE MY DOOR ALONE!”

Mycroft sniggered and they moved to the next doors, hanging candy canes on every single doorknob. Molly took one for herself, and Mycroft dangled them from his lip again to try and get her to choke. His boss could be heard storming down the hall. They tore to Mycroft’s office, locking it and leaning on each other in hysterics.

“I can’t...believe...we put...48...candy canes...on his door!” Mycroft laughed.

Molly nodded, but couldn’t say anything for the air being forcibly shoved out of her. “Ha...haha...hahahahahahaha…!”

Mycroft nodded his agreement, and slumped to the floor. “Man, the second I walk out of here I’m fired.”

Molly handed him a candy cane. “Have one...It makes everything better.”

Mycroft took it and sucked. “Hmm...with these I might be able to wait long enough that I won’t get fired…”

“I have the SweetTart ones,” Molly gasped.

“Ooh!”


	10. Chapter 10

“Doctor Who marathon.”

Those three words made Mycroft grin like an idiot no matter where he was. Molly was flipping through channels and Mycroft hummed appreciatively. “Do they have the Victorian episode playing?”

Molly checked. “No...but they have Midnight. And The Waters of Mars. And Blink.”

Mycroft whistled. “Some special occasion, huh?”

“Best and brightest episodes or something according to Meena,” Molly replied absently. “Wanna watch?”

“No, duh!” Mycroft said.

They hunkered down under blankets, armed with Hot Chocolate, and turned the channel to the Doctor Who marathon, in honor of the new special. “I’m glad I have a fellow Whovian to geek out with,” Molly admitted.

Mycroft smiled. “Me too.”

They listened to the pleasant chimes coming from the TV, and cheered when the theme song came on. They were lost running with the Doctor for the rest of the evening.


	11. Invitations

It had come that day. Mycroft glowered at it and said nothing, attempting to move on with his life. Molly saw him glowering at his laptop and knew. It was on their kitchen table, yet to be touched by either of them. Sherlock texted her. _I got one too -SH_

She sighed. She’d have to be the one to reply, then. The one to do the forbidden: break the envelope’s seal.

It was innocuous enough, sitting there in a pile of bills and Christmas cards. She picked it up, and slid her finger under the tab, tearing the top open. She pulled out the card that belonged in a 90’s sitcom and read: You’re Invited! on the front.

_Molly, you and I both know Myc won’t open this letter, but we’d love to have you two over for Christmas dinner! -Mummy_

Molly smiled. Of course, Mycroft wouldn’t open a letter meant for her. She walked over to him and dropped it on his laptop. “I’m RSVP’ing,” she announced.

Mycroft groaned. “Why?”

Molly huffed. “We talked about this. You said you’d go if we were invited.”

He glowered. “I don’t want to.”

“Don’t be so childish,” she admonished, picking up her phone. “I’m calling now.”

She picked up the phone and Mycroft sighed as Molly and his mother got together to talk about him for a few hours after Molly RSVP’ed. He got up, went to get his coat, and left. By the time he came back from a meeting he would arrange on the way there the conversation would be over...if he was lucky.


	12. Finding Presents

Molly walked the streets in the most recent snow’s slush looking for the perfect gift for Mycroft. He had a scarf, and mittens, and socks...and that horrible Christmas sweater from his mum that she laughed at, knowing full well how much he hated it. She needed something new this year. A little thrift shop caught her eye and for some reason she decided to go in. Yes, it smelled like mothballs but for some reason she innately knew if Mycroft was interested in anything, she’d find it in here.

Halfway through the store she found the jewelry section and she laughed, thinking maybe she could find a tie pin for him or something. She stopped when she saw two wedding bands and smiled. Someday she hoped that it would be her and Mycroft married. Then a thought struck her: why not now, exactly? It had been two years, surely she could propose?

She laughed and picked up the rings, and continued looking for a tie pin or something else she could get for Mycroft. Sure, she’d propose, but not on Christmas. So she still needed a gift...there! That’s perfect!

Gift chosen, she headed to the cashier to ring the items up. Now she and Mycroft had Sherlock and the rest of their families to worry about…

* * *

Mycroft bit his lip as he wandered the shelves of the old bookstore. He knew the instant Molly said she wanted something that made him think of her that he’d come here. The used bookstore had everything from pristine first editions to well-worn but carefully rebound and restored modern stories. It was the perfect place to get Molly a good book.

On a whim he went into the children’s section and found a well-worn book with a slightly torn cover. He opened it to the first page, where, as expected, there was a “This Book Belongs To” tag with a filled line carefully written by a young girl, going by the name.

He did a double-take and inspected the handwriting. He recognized it, and almost laughed. Perfect! He tucked it under his arm as he left towards the check out. He couldn’t believe that finding a gift for Molly could be that easy!


	13. Ginger bread Houses

Molly was covered in frosting. Head to torso, there wasn’t a place on her front that wasn’t caked. Mycroft was laughing his head off from the oven, pulling out the gingerbread pieces. Molly turned to him and scowled. “You think this is funny, do you?” The man was gasping for breath as he put the tray down and nodded. Molly got a wicked grin, said, “Oh, really?” and pulled him into a bear hug.

Mycroft squeaked as frosting covered his front, and tried to pull away. “Molly…” he started.

She shushed him and pulled him down for a kiss, both of them getting frosting mashed on their faces. He pulled back. “Molly...we do need to glue this house together before everything hardens to concrete.”

“Oh! Right,” Molly said, taking a knife and rubbing the remaining icing in the bowl onto it.

They assembled the house in record speed and covered it so Toby couldn’t get it, and went back to kissing. They could decorate anytime, but right now they were a bit busy to worry about much of anything.


	14. Christmas Sweaters

Mycroft was huddled on the couch, shivering even under the terrible and stiflingly hot Christmas sweater his mum had gotten him. Molly frowned at him. “Love, are you okay?”

He waved her off. “J-Just c-c-cold…”

“You shouldn’t have gone out onto that pond to chase Sherlock,” she admonished. “Come on, I’ll draw a bath.”

Mycroft shook his head. “I-I-I-I’ll-’ll be fine,” he assured. “J-Just n-n-need to sh-share body w-w-warmth…”

Molly got an angry look on her face. “Did you fall in that pond on purpose to cuddle with me?”

Mycroft shook his head. “B-b-b-b-ut I’m d-d-d-determined to m-make the m-most of it-t-t-t.”

Molly rolled her eyes and sighed, pulling as much of the man on her lap as she could. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmured. “What happens if you’re still sick and shivering by Christmas?”

“Ch-Ch-Christmas c-c-cuddles?” he guessed. “I-I-I alr-ready g-g-got your g-gift.”

Molly whacked him. “I’m not worried about that, you loon! I’m worried about you!”

Mycroft hummed. “I-I-I s-said I’d b-be f-f-fin-n-ne, t-though.”

“Yeah? You’re not fine now, though. So shut up and rest. Doctor’s orders.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed.


	15. Music

Molly padded down the hallway, camera in hand, to the living room. Mycroft was strumming a guitar and singing “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” and she was going to record it if it was the last thing she did.

“ _O come, O come, Emmanuel_

“ _And ransom captive Israel…_ ”

She positioned the camera and walked up without it, sitting next to him and enjoying the music in person. Mycroft looked up at her and nodded but didn’t stop. She curled up and let his baritone wash over her ears. There was something about him singing that was...hypnotising, really. She nearly fell asleep to it. He moved on to “Mary Did You Know” and “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”, and even “O Holy Night”. He certainly had a penchant for the classics.

When he was done he went over and grabbed her phone for her, turning the recorder off. “In honor of Christmas, I’m letting you keep this.”

Molly grinned. “I was going to put it on a CD, add Sherlock’s more contemporary style and give it as a gift to your parents. You think that’s a good idea?”

He nodded. “They’ll love it.” A pause. “Do you think I’m...old fashioned?”

Molly laughed. “No! I’m just saying when it comes to Christmas music you’re a traditionalist. Nothing wrong with it!”

Mycroft nodded, and then shook his head in defeat. “Yeah, I’m old fashioned…”

Molly sighed and kissed him. “It's one of the reasons I love you, love,” she whispered.


	16. Snow

“Mycroft! It’s snowing!” Molly exclaimed.

Mycroft hopped up and got his coat and boots on as fast as he could, skidding outside. Big, fat snowflakes were falling to the ground, where there was about an inch of slush eagerly eating it, but at the same time preserving bits of it, starting to freeze over. Mycroft took a handful, and when Molly came out, threw it at her. She shrieked and laughed. “Snowball fight!” she exclaimed, hurling a handful back at him.

They were yelling and laughing in the snow, while neighbors looked on and shook their heads, wondering if the two were ever sensible. Mycroft was building a fort to hide behind, and Molly was starting to form a snowman. You would swear there were kids living at their house, the way they played in the snow. Sherlock came up in a cab, intending to talk tactics at Christmas dinner, to find the reasons behind the snow sculptures in their yard. He sighed. “I thought you two were a bit old for this?” he asked.

Mycroft and Molly looked at each other, and Molly, with a grin, yelled, “Attack the non-believer!”

Sherlock was pelted with snow and slush. Soon all three of them were engaged in crystallized combat, and they played out in the snow for the rest of the day.


	17. Santa

It was their last day in London before they left for Mycroft’s parents’ when they got the letter. Molly grinned. “Mycroft, we got another letter from the kid!”

Mycroft ran from their room to the kitchen. “Is he still calling me Father Christmas?”

“It’s _Santa_ , you relic, and no. It’s addressed to Mr. Holmes and Dr. Hooper on the front.”

Mycroft took it and opened it up. “Year round, the boy writes to the North Pole. Know why?”

Molly sighed. “I think we’re the only strong adult influence the boy has. You’ve read what his parents do to him.”

He nodded gravely and opened the letter, and read it aloud. “‘Dear Mr Holmes and Dr Hooper…I don’t know if you still read my letters, but my parents were thrown in jail and I’ve been put in foster care. My parents aren’t going to get to take care of me again...and I was hoping if maybe you could visit me sometime. I’m not making friends well with the others, they say I’m too smart, because I can write well. I’d like 2 friends, at least.’ I’m not sure how much of friends we’d be…‘Please write back, if it’s not too much trouble. Yours, Anthony P.S. I put in a picture so you could see what I look like.’”

Molly rushed over and grabbed the picture from Mycroft’s hands. It was of a thin, dirty boy with a huge grin on his face as he held up a dead mouse. “Aw…”

Mycroft considered. “We should adopt him.”

Molly looked up and laughed. “Seriously?”

“Why not? You think anyone else will if he can’t get along with the other kids? They’ll see him as a bad seed. And besides, we both want kids someday. Why not now?”

Molly grinned. “Should we tell him, then?”

Mycroft turned and shrugged. “Sure.”

Molly laughed. “Are we even going to visit him first?”

Mycroft shrugged. “Why? We know him better from his letters than we would from 10 visits.”

Molly grinned. “I’ll get the paper and tell him, then. He can come with us to your parents’.”


	18. Chapter 18

Mycroft sighed as he finally managed to drag the Christmas tree inside his parent’s house to the living room. “Finished,” he muttered, and collapsed on the couch next to Molly. He wrapped his arm around her and she squeaked in surprise. “Mycroft!” she hissed.

He grinned cheekily. “What?”

She glared at him. “Don’t you ‘what’ me, mister! You know exactly what I’m upset about!”

He shrugged and removed his arm.

“D’you think we should get married?” Molly asked.

Mycroft hummed. “I can’t think of anyone better to get married to. I don’t think there is anyone.”

“Good,” Molly said, pulling out the wedding bands she found. “Let’s get married. There’s a little church in town, your parents can act as witnesses. Let’s get married.”

“Molly, it’s like, a week before Christmas.”

“And we’re adopting a little boy who is currently with your parents and getting to know the family, and we have nothing to do except set up the Christmas tree, which you just did,” Molly pointed out.

Mycroft broke into a smile. “Let’s get married, then.”

* * *

Anthony was the ring bearer. Mummy Holmes cried, and Father smiled proudly. The pastor did a short but meaningful ceremony, and they exchanged vows. It was like eloping, except much better. “Sherlock will be insufferable this year,” Molly noted.

Mycroft laughed and nodded. "You took the words right out of my mouth."


	19. Christmas Lights

“Anthony, would you like to help me with the Christmas lights?” Molly asked.

Anthony eagerly nodded.

Molly grinned. Since they had borrowed Anthony for the week and told him they were going to adopt him, he was bouncing off the walls. He was nonverbal, because of some trial when he was young, but that didn’t stop him from showing what he wanted. And he was quite the actor. He pointed to Mycroft’s umbrella and put on a quizzical face. _Why doesn’t Mycroft help?_

“Mycroft is busy with his parents, no doubt trying to explain our little marriage idea to them.”

Anthony kept his quizzical expression as he helped detangle the lights. _Why?_

“It’s been 2 years, but it was quite sudden. It just...felt right to both of us, in a way that’s hard to explain.”

Pointing at himself. _Did I do anything with it?_

“You influenced it a little, yeah. In a good way, though.”

Anthony nodded, satisfied, and started handing strings of lights to Molly, who strung them up as she went. She looked at him and smiled. “You’re a good kid, you know, Anthony.”

Anthony shook his head. _Not really._

“You are,” Molly insisted. “You help us, and you let us know when you need something, and you don’t get frustrated just because we can’t understand you a lot. Come to think of it, we should probably teach you sign language, it would make some things easier.”

Anthony blinked and immediately started signing. _I learned from books. I didn’t think you knew it._

Molly grinned. “Mycroft learned young because his brother Sherlock was nonverbal for a long time as well, and then he taught me.”

 _I’m glad you know it,_ he signed. _This makes everything so much easier._

Molly finished stringing the lights and nodded. “Now, I know that you don’t know what to call Mycroft and myself, and that’s fine. But know that since you’re a part of the family, you don’t have to call us ‘Mr. and Dr. Holmes’, okay? We’re fine with whatever you want to call us.”

Anthony considered this. _...Okay. Thanks, Mum._ And he left, not seeing Molly light up, or Mycroft smile from his vantage point at the top of the staircase.


	20. Sherlock Visiting

Sherlock was greeted by a 5-year-old signing excitedly about him to unseen person behind the door. “Who are you signing to?” Sherlock asked him. “Who are you?”

Anthony looked at Sherlock and grinned, saying nothing. Mycroft walked up from behind the door and nodded. “Sherlock. I see you’ve met Anthony.”

Sherlock stared at the boy. “He’s...uh...he’s...yours?” he squeaked.

Mycroft shrugged. “Will be in a few weeks. He’s nonverbal, by the way. Hope that you brushed up on your sign language.”

Sherlock looked between Anthony and Mycroft, trying to determine whether or not he was serious. “Well this is certainly going to be an annoying Christmas. I suppose you and Molly married, also?”

“Yesterday,” Mycroft supplied, trying not to laugh.

Sherlock gawped at him. John walked up behind him, then Mary. “Sherlock, are you going to let us in? What’s the matter?” John asked.

“It appears he doesn’t believe that Molly and I have married, or that we’re adopting.”

John’s eyebrows shot up and Mary squealed, moving past the men to congratulate Molly. Sherlock and Mycroft continued their stare-down. Anthony stuck his hand out to John and John took it. “Well, then. I heard your, um, Mycroft say that you’re nonverbal...so I guess since I’m rusty on my sign, I won’t be able to catch your name.

Anthony slowly spelled _A-N-T-H-O-N-Y_.

John nodded. “Anthony then. Want to go inside while these two stare at each other? I bet we can find something more fun to do.”

Anthony nodded and led John over to where Molly and Mary were sitting, talking about family life. It was a domestic scene, but something within everyone allowed for it, just this once.


	21. Building Excitement

Anthony was emphatically signing to Sherlock and John, John nodding and occasionally asking for clarification, Sherlock just rolling his eyes at everything Anthony said. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were playing Christmas music and dancing to it. Mycroft and Molly were sitting on the couch, just relaxing and talking. “Can you believe it’s about half a week until Christmas?” Molly asked.

Mycroft hummed. “Not really. Though I can’t wait to give you the gift I found for you.”

“Neither can I,” Molly said.

Mycroft sighed contentedly and Molly laughed. “Something funny?” he asked.

“You’re never this relaxed,” she laughed.

“Trust me, I’ll be irritated by all this by the time Christmas happens. But for now I’m just going to enjoy it.”

“The best way to handle Christmas with difficult relatives,” Molly laughed, and Sherlock looked over offended.

Anthony grinned and let out a little pleased breath of air.  _ I can’t wait for Christmas _ , he signed.

“I can’t wait for Christmas to be  _ over _ ,” Mycroft joked.

Every woman in the room hit him with one thing or another, playfully, realizing the drama queens that were the Holmes brothers wouldn’t surface until actual Christmas.

Even so, no one could wait.


	22. Family Photo

No one felt like it. Sherlock was holed up in his room, John trying to get him to show his face long enough to eat. Mycroft and Anthony were reading in the kitchen, and Molly and Mr. Holmes were out back laughing about Mycroft. Still, Mrs. Holmes wouldn’t be deterred. “Come on, everyone! It will take all of 5 minutes! How bad could it be?”

Sherlock poked his head out of his room and sighed, Mary behind him, both of them talking about something or another. John followed, relieved Sherlock was out of the room.

It took some persuasion, but eventually Molly and Mr. Holmes came inside. But Mycroft and Anthony wouldn’t budge. “Mikey…”

“5 more minutes,” he grumbled. “We’re reading about linear velocity.”

Anthony wouldn’t even sign anything, just hold a finger up as if to pause in a conversation, and leave it there as he continued to read.

Molly noticed the disappointed look on Mrs. Holmes’ face and took out her phone, taking a picture of Mycroft and Anthony together. Then she took one of John, Mary, and Sherlock. She took one of Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, and then positioned them all around Mycroft and Anthony, and stuck her camera on the end of a broom, setting the timer. Sure, it was a bit like a selfie, but weren’t all family photos?

She made copies of every single one, and she and Mrs. Holmes put them in a photo album together. It was the best family photo they had ever gotten.


	23. Falling Asleep On Each Other

Molly was reading the newspaper and making her way to the Sudoku when she felt the pressure on her shoulder. She looked over carefully and smiled. Mycroft, working on his laptop, had fallen asleep.

Anthony had long since gone to bed and Mycroft was with him nearly all day, so she wasn’t surprised. She carefully took the laptop away and put it on the table, locking it so Sherlock couldn’t get to it. Then she took hold of him, lifted him up bridal style, and carried him to their room. Once there, she took off his belt and socks, knowing he hated to sleep with either of them on, and pulled the sheets over him.

She took off her clothes and changed into her pyjamas, slipping in the other side of the bed, positioning her head so she could hear Mycroft’s heartbeat clearly, and let herself drift off to sleep as well. The Sudoku could wait until tomorrow.


	24. Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

Molly hummed  _ Silent Night _ as she filled a tin with chestnuts and attached them to a fire poker. Mycroft was laughing at her but she paid him no mind as she stuck it over the fire. Anthony watched with rapt attention as Molly positioned the tin correctly, and Sherlock came down the stairs with John and ultimately Mary in tow, wrinkling his nose. “Molly, are you roasting chestnuts?”

Molly nodded, clearly proud of herself. “Yes, Sherlock, I am roasting chestnuts. Do you want any?”

Sherlock scoffed and sat next to his soon-to-be nephew, signing at him about how inefficient using an open fire was to roast nuts, while Anthony tried to say that he wasn’t deaf, just non-verbal, and if he could please just talk so he could get back to reading, since Molly was done with whatever she was doing, that would be great. Mummy and Father looked on at the two smiling, and Mycroft turned Sherlock’s attention away from Anthony so the poor boy could read. He’d be done interacting with people by lunch tomorrow, but Molly was glad that he was keeping Sherlock from inadvertently insulting her by questioning her methods.

“ _ Chestnuts roasting, on an open fire _ ,” Molly sang quietly.

“ _ Jack Frost, nipping at your nose _ ,” Mary sang back quietly.

“ _ Yuletide carols, being sung by a choir, _ ” Mycroft picked up, rolling his eyes.

“ _ And folks, dressed up like, eskimos, _ ” Molly laughed.

“ _ Everybody knows… _

_ “A turkey, and some misteltoe _

_ “Help to make, the season bright. _

_ “Tiny tots, with their eyes all aglow, _

_ “Will find it hard to sleep, tonight… _ ”

The group sang quietly around the fire the rest of the night, sharing Molly’s roasted chestnuts.


	25. CHRISTMAS DAY!

Anthony jumped on the bed Mycroft and Molly were sharing, signing excitedly. It took Molly a minute to realize he was signing  _ Wake up! Wake up, it’s Christmas! _

Molly sat up quickly at the realization and Mycroft followed, albeit slower. “Oh, no. It’s today, isn’t it?” he groaned.

“It sure is!” Molly exclaimed, jumping out of bed to get dressed.

Mycroft sighed and sat up slowly, rolling his eyes. “If this becomes a regular thing, I may just get myself fatally shot,” he grumbled.

Molly pouted at him. “Come oooon, Myc. It’s Christmas. Chin up!”

Mycroft grumbled and Molly gave him a look. He sighed but didn’t say anything else.

Sherlock stumbled out of his room yelling at Anthony to stop knocking on the doors, which woke everyone else up. They all went downstairs, where the tree had presents waiting under it, and Anthony ran up excitedly when he was informed one of the presents was for him. He opened it quickly and he started crying when he saw what it was. A picture frame with his name on it in foam stickers, and inside was the picture Molly had taken of the three of them when they first met. He gave both Mycroft and Molly a hug. Sherlock got a new scarf, some blank sheet music, and some varnish for his violin, which he quietly thanked everyone for. John got an assortment of jumpers which everyone laughed about, Mary got some trashy romance novels which she loved. Mummy and Father loved the CD Molly put together and immediately started to play it. Mycroft opened his gift from Molly and laughed. “A cape? Do you really think I’m that dramatic?”

“It looks exactly like Edward’s from--”

“-From _Fullmetal Alchemist_ , yes, I am aware of that,” he smiled. “I’m making you cosplay with me at some point, now,” he admitted.

Molly grinned and opened her present from him. She gasped when she saw it. “Did you really--” she opened the book to the first page and saw her name, in her own shaky handwriting. “I lost this years ago! Where did you find it?!”

“Bookstore,” Mycroft shrugged. “I hope it’s good enough, I don’t know exactly whether I should’ve added to it or--”

Molly cut him off in a hug. “It’s perfect,” she laughed. “Absolutely perfect.”

Later, of course, all the excitement would fade and everyone would either be chatting quietly (the ladies) or groaning about the slowness of the day (Mycroft and Sherlock) but right then, it was the perfect Christmas day for all of them. No one would change anything.

And they all loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas~! Stay tuned for the Boxing Day Bonus!


	26. Boxing Day Bonus!

Molly’s folks had so many questions when she showed up with Mycroft, Anthony, and a wedding band. How did she have a kid? A husband? Why didn’t you tell anyone sooner? She explained all that she could without Mycroft interrupting or Anthony trying to correct her. But eventually she gave up and just laughed as Mycroft and Anthony were arguing over what happened. She looked on with a smile.  _ Her boys. _ If this was to be her life, then she’d have a very happy one indeed. And she was just fine with that.

_ ~End~ _


End file.
